


Full Circle or Why A Duck

by pat_t



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-29 00:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/pseuds/pat_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when two lonely hearts meet? Sometimes dreams do come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle or Why A Duck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tessa Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tessa+Rae).



“I want you.”

The voice was deep and lightly accented and it sent a shiver down Duncan’s spine. Fine hairs stood up on his arms as the voice pressed on, the air fairly crackling with tension, until he heard the soft chime that signaled the end of the call.

“Close,” he instructed the lighted panel, effectively darkening the screen on his vid phone. Normally he would see his caller when using the monitor, except with this line. It was set for black-out with only the rich timbre of the other’s voice to fill his senses. For this was a special caller. No names, no knowledge of the other’s life at all; just the promise of dark passions and sweet desires whenever the world became too complicated and one of them needed an escape.

Three little words could spiral his will out of control. “I want you.” His dream lover.

Turning, he surveyed his surroundings and did a mental check of his calendar. Currently he was using the name Douglas MacGregor, wealthy investor in international trade and marketing. He lived in an area that was once known as New York in the 21st century--before the collapse of the global economy and the last World War--the war-to-end-all-wars. Of course it was. Another war would end the world.

For those who had survived it was truly a global world now. All sovereignty lost with a world-wide government run by the United Nations. After a long and arduous period of recovery, technology had surged post-war. He smiled as that thought skittered across his mind. It still wasn’t exactly what they had anticipated back in the 20th century with visions of intra-planetary space travel or flying around in space with their space-cars.

However, things were now automated and more convenient than ever. A voice command put him in touch with anyone in the world through a portable vid phone or a stationary command center like the one in his office. A different command as he walked into his kitchen instructed his coffee maker to deliver beans into the grinder. A quick perusal of his walk-in cooler reassured him that he had nothing to worry about. The sensors would detect when he hadn’t opened the door for a certain amount of time and self-adjust the temperatures to keep the food fresh. He had come home to frozen contents on more than one occasion from his otherwise unscheduled excursions.

He entered his bedroom and pulled out a suitcase, quickly calculating what he would need for his trip and determining one suitcase would be adequate. He walked past a slick 46 inch monitor attached to the east wall and gave it a voice command. “On.”

It beeped twice and the screen lit up in preparation for instructions. “Travel,” he instructed as he flipped his suitcase open and sat down on the bed, waiting while the appropriate screen appeared. He gave the brief coordinates his lover had delivered on the phone. He didn’t have to wait long. The word “Confirmed” appeared on the screen and he was all set.

Wryly, he admitted to himself that he was glad he was not currently in a relationship. When they had started this–-thing--between them it was agreed that no matter what, when one called with a wish, the other would drop everything and respond. No matter what business they were tied up with, what relationship they were committed to, nothing interfered with their time.

It was then that they also agreed, no real names, nothing about their individual lives to confuse or intrude on their desires. Either man could call at any time with any fantasy, no matter how dangerous, macabre or horribly mundane it was.

If truth be known, he had not been in a committed relationship in over forty years. Nor did he want to be. It never got easier when he lost them. And it always destroyed something inside him when they died, a little piece of his soul they took with them to the grave that he never recovered. Little Deer, Deborah, Tessa, Linda….

He choked back the sob that still tended to catch in his throat at the thought of her name even now. Forty years. It had been forty long years since he had held her frail body in his arms as the cancer finally overtook her. Forty years of loving this woman with his heart and his soul. The symmetry of his long period of bereavement with the years of joy she had given him somehow seemed fitting.

Pushing up from the bed, he mentally willed his sadness away to be dealt with at a later time. Linda was but one of the many loves of his long life. He grieved for them all and he knew if he allowed it, he would be overcome with their memories.

As if on cue, his monitor chirped and came to life, displaying what appeared to be a luxurious hotel room and one scantily dressed female immortal.

“MacLeod. Glad to see you home. And in your bedroom too.” She smirked. “Have you been doing something naughty without me?”

“Amanda. And the name is Douglas MacGregor.” Speaking of old lovers!

“Whatever.” She dismissed his words with a wave of her expensively manicured hand. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I am.”

He reached for a book on his bedside table briefly reflecting on how much he disliked reading a novel on his monitor; how sterile and impersonal the words appeared on a screen. He liked holding a book in his hands, feeling the weight of it, smelling the slightly musty odor of the pages as he lost himself in the words.

Taking a deep breath, he slid the book into the side compartment of his suitcase, silently admonishing himself for spending so much time on introspection today. Brooding--that’s what Methos and Amanda called it. That thought made him smile, and he turned back toward the monitor to address his guest. “You almost missed me.” He shrugged. “At home at least. What color is that anyway?”

“What-–my hair?” She raked her fingers through the dark green strands. “It’s called Midnight Forest Green. It’s the newest thing. You like?”

He looked her over carefully, the meticulously applied make-up, shoulder length hair and maroon dress, or at least as much of it as he could see. Very few women could really get by with the new wave hair shades. She was gorgeous. He also suspected she was up to something. The large innocent eyes and impish smile usually meant it was no good.

“On you, I like. Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but I really do have to be somewhere soon.” As if to accentuate his words, he went to the closet to pull out his clothes and began packing.

“What? You have a new lover? Who is she? Or is it a he?”

By the look on her face Duncan suspected she was vacillating between curiosity about his love life and annoyance that she wasn’t previously informed. He could leave her hanging, but an annoyed Amanda could be a troublesome and dangerous animal, which could be both amusing and fun, but one he didn’t have time to handle at the moment.

“No one new, Amanda. And no one you know.”

“Oh,” she squealed and he winced as the sound seemed to penetrate right into his ear drum. Good thing for immortal healing he mused as she continued. “It’s your dream lover, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t exactly a question and he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer her. She didn’t seem to mind as she prattled on excitedly.

“Come on, Douglas.” She put a slight emphasis on his name and he grinned in spite of himself. “Give it up. Who is this guy?”

“What makes you think it’s a guy?”

“Because I know you. If it was a woman, you would have already moved her in. You don’t do casual with women. Not long term anyway. Well, not with mortal women. And I would know if it was an immortal woman.”

He raised a brow at her slightly menacing tone, mentally acknowledging the implied threat he knew lay between the lines. “It’s not a woman, Amanda. And you were never casual, you know.”

“I know.” She grinned, her good mood already reasserting itself with the admission of his lover’s male gender. “But I didn’t think you knew. Um, Duncan….”

“What, Amanda?” He placed his carefully folded jeans into this suitcase and turned toward the monitor.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s called packing. You know, you put clothes into a suitcase. Much easier to carry them that way.”

“Very funny. I mean what are you packing? It looks like jeans.”

“It is jeans.” He returned from the closet with a stack of shirts folded over his arm. “Something wrong with that?” He began folding and placing his shirts in the suitcase.

“Men! Duncan, you can wear anything from any era you choose. Why would you wear jeans?”

“Because they’re comfortable and I like them. You have a problem with that?” He snapped his suitcase shut and sat on his bed to glower at her.

“No, of course not. But, of all the clothes you could choose from…. Oh, never mind. I guess your dream lover likes you in them.”

“As a matter of fact, he does.” Duncan grinned. “He thinks they make my ass look hot.”

“I bet. If I were him I’d dress you in a kilt.”

“Amanda….”

“Or have you grow your hair back out. Down to your waist this time and try some of the new colors. You would look so primitive.”

Instinctively, Duncan brushed an errant curl from his forehead and smoothed down the strands that fell just above his shirt collar as he stood and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh never mind. I know that look. Don’t get all upset, honey. I know you said you would never grow it long again after the war.”

“I’m not upset, Amanda. It’s okay.” He sighed deeply. “And not that I’m not happy to see you, but I do need to be somewhere soon. Did you just come by to visit or did you need something?”

“Well, I was hoping we could get together this weekend, but since you have plans….” She said with an exaggerated pout.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Unless.” Her face brightened. “I could come along?”

“I don’t think so. Bye, Amanda.” He smiled at her.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t offer. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Love you.” She blew him a kiss just as the monitor chimed and went blank.

With a chuckle, he grabbed the handle of his suitcase and wheeled it into his office/control room where his main computer terminal was set up. From here he could set and control all the voice activated equipment in his apartment as well as his mobile devices when he was gone. He clicked a key on his control center and spoke out loud.

“Four pairs of slacks, four pairs of jeans, four dress shirts, four casual shirts, socks, briefs, shoes, shaving supplies, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, Katana.”

A computerized voice drawled from his monitor. “Check. Lube.”

“Check.” He grinned and pulled his suitcase into the living room area by the front door where his overcoat was hanging on the coat rack, the katana already secured in the sheath.

Despite what he had told Amanda, he had almost half an hour before he needed to leave. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy talking to her. She was one of his dearest friends. But his relationship with his lover was immensely private and he wasn’t up to fielding her questions today.

The aroma of fresh coffee wafting from the kitchen reminded him that he had not eaten breakfast that morning. He poured a cup of coffee, decided against food after all, and went into the living room to relax. He took a sip of coffee, placed his cup on a coaster on the coffee table and walked over to his entertainment center to pick up a plastic cd holder. Grinning, he turned it over to read the inscription.  
 _  
To Captain Spaulding  
From Professor Wagstaff  
_  
Carrying the cd over to the couch, he sat down and reached for the remote. All his cds were programmed into his stereo system, therefore, when the lights flicked on he only had to give a voice command.

“Play Alone.”

The music started and he closed his eyes, humming along softly to the song from his stereo.

 _  
Alone,  
Alone with a sky of romance above.  
Alone,  
Alone on a night that was meant for love.  
There must be someone waiting who feels the way I do,  
Whoever you are, are you, are you?_

 _Alone,  
Alone on a night that we two could share.  
Alone,  
Alone with your kiss that could make me care;  
And when you come I'll promise to be your very own,  
Alone,  
Alone with a heart meant for you alone._

 _Alone with a sky of romance above.  
Alone on a night that was meant for love  
There must be someone waiting who feels the way I do,  
Whoever you are, are you, are you?_

 _Alone on a night that we two could share.  
Alone with your kiss that could make me care;  
And when you come I'll promise to be your very own,  
Alone,  
Alone with a heart meant for you alone.  
_

He stood when the song finished, placed the cd back on the shelf and took one final sip of coffee. Time to go. The monorail system was now connected nation-wide with entrances and exits within walking distance from everywhere in the city. As it happened, his apartment building was less than a block from the nearest entry point. He slipped on his coat, adjusted the weight of the katana and voice activated the security code that would protect his property while he was away.

Stepping into the main terminals, he squinted against the glaring lights bouncing off the endless hallways covered in cold, shiny metal. An agent met him immediately as he arrived and he was escorted to a hallway to the left, grateful that it was warmer when he was shown into a large room with several sectioned areas off to one side.

He relinquished his suitcase willingly, knowing it would find itself on the conveyor belt to be delivered to handlers in another room for a scan and search. He stepped into the full body scanner and lifted his arms, turning when instructed until he was told to exit. Once both he and his belongings were cleared he would be able to carry them on board for travel. He had registered his Katana with the National Committee on International Safety several years ago as a family heirloom. It was amazing how many times his family heirloom was needed when he had to travel long distances.

“This way, sir.”

Duncan looked at the man who was indicating an open curtain with a wave of his arm. All the agents were dressed the same: dark brown pants, beige tops, brown jackets with the emblem “GTA” sewn on the pocket. All the “global travel agents” tended to look the same: medium height, medium build, short hair. Nothing to set them apart or individualize them in any way and he would probably never remember this man’s face if he saw him again.

He gave the man a negligible nod and stepped into the booth, preparing to undress and let the man give him a thorough pat down and body cavity search. The man stood at the ready, arms crossed and a bored look on his face as Duncan undressed. The agent might have thought Duncan was just as bored since his eyes had lost focus while his mind pulled up memories of times past.

~~~~~~~

The room was dark and dank. Stale air stung the insides of his nostrils and saturated his lungs. He squinted into the darkness, barely discerning a shadow as the presence of another immortal slithered across his exposed and sweat dampened skin. His wrists were crisscrossed behind his back, the abrasive tear of the ropes burning his skin as his muscles bunched with tension.

He didn’t speak. He knew it was against the rules. No talking. Not without permission and he was never given permission. A chuckle echoed in the room and Duncan tensed as the presence came nearer.

A gasp caught in his throat as a male figure came into view. Tall, lean, muscular and naked, his erect cock preceding his steps with predatory promise. The man stepped around him, leaning closer until his breath ghosted against Duncan’s skin.

“Miss me?” The man chuckled, a wicked sound that caused Duncan’s skin to prickle with excitement and a slight ebb of fear.

Soft lips touched his shoulder. A gentle kiss followed by fervent sucking of his skin, a flicker of tongue and sharp nipping of teeth elicited an almost moan that caught in Duncan’s throat as he felt his knees start to buckle.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Duncan’s arms were grabbed roughly and he was pulled back against a firm chest. “Do you have any idea what I could do to a man like you?”

Remembering not to speak, he began to shake his head no, only to have the action aborted when his shoulder length hair was twisted in a hard grasp and his head was yanked backwards.

Moist breath brushed against his skin as the man leaned forward and spoke in his ear. The voice was low, an almost whisper that still echoed over-loud against the stark walls of the otherwise empty room.

“I could have you on your knees begging me to take you, to bend you to my will. I could give you more pleasure or bring you more agony than a mere mortal could survive and you would want it, beg me for it.”

Duncan shivered, his own cock aching with every pulsing beat of his heart as the man finally released his hair, his other hand still holding Duncan firmly against his chest by his restrained arms while his free hand slithered down Duncan’s back to his buttocks.

~~~~~~~

Duncan felt gloved fingers probe between his buttocks and jerked back to the present as the agent finished his body search.

“You can go, sir.” The man turned and slid through the opening in the curtain, seemingly unconcerned that he could possibly expose a naked traveler to others’ eyes.

Duncan grunted to himself, both accustomed to and annoyed with the traveling safety referendums. Once dressed, he was escorted down another long hallway to a large open area. Another agent scanned his passport and reviewed the paperwork for the transport of his katana, eyeing both Duncan and the sword warily before stepping aside while Duncan pressed his thumb against the pad to verify his fingerprint.

Once he had cleared security he was allowed into the main section of the transportation terminal where several domed-shaped vessels were being boarded with passengers. His travel pass had his coordinates and he was quickly shown to a rolling walkway. He stepped onto the walkway and took a deep breath to release tension. His coordinates were programmed in and he knew the walkway would take him to a stall where he would find a comfortable recliner, refreshments and a mini-entertainment center.

The flight would not take long, but with the ability to transport within minutes from one area to the next, the two hours it would take the vessel to take him from his home to the country once known as France was unbearable and barbaric by today’s standards. Of course, Duncan still remembered what it was like to travel by horseback when it would take days to get from one town to the next. In reality, he welcomed the time to center himself and think.

Soon he was in his assigned stall and reclining back in his seat with a glass of Scotch and his favorite classical music playing softly in the background. He felt the tension easing out of stressed muscles and took another sip of cool liquid, relishing the slight burn as it slid down his throat.

Moments later, feeling his eyelids grow heavy, he set the glass aside on the polished synthetic oak table and gave into the inevitable as he fell into a light slumber.

~~~~~~~

Duncan stepped onto the subway train and paused as he was assaulted with a strong wash of immortal presence. He looked down the length of the almost empty train until he spotted the lone man sitting mid-way, his wary gaze searching out the presence he sensed as well. They locked eyes and the man stood up, turned, and went to the back of the train compartment.

The train jerked forward and Duncan grabbed hold of the rails to steady himself before following the other immortal past the empty seats to the last compartment. Not waiting for an invitation, he slid into the seat opposite the man and unabashedly looked him over.

Even sitting, his body forming an inelegant sprawl against the hard, unforgiving plastic seat, Duncan could sense the power in the man’s lean frame. He had dark hair, much shorter than the current style for men, green hazel eyes shadowed by a pair of dark-rimmed glasses and a prominent nose. He was dressed in a light brown suit with a tan shirt and matching light brown vest. The man had out his phone, appearing to be engrossed in whatever he was reading at the moment. He looked good. He also looked incredibly tense, despite the deceptive pose.

Time clicked by slowly, the silence excruciatingly oppressive as their train whirred down the subway tracks until they came to another station and it jerked to a too sudden halt to let off more passengers. The subway train was emptying quickly and Duncan cleared his throat with a nervous cough which seemed to echo in the near empty car.

Finally, the other man put aside his phone and looked at him, eyes narrowed as if in deep thought as he assessed the situation. A timid smile met Duncan’s brisk nod of approval and he finally spoke, his voice deep and sure even if his posture was not.

“What’s gone and what’s past help, should be past grief.”

Duncan silently placed the passage in his head as the other man nervously adjusted his jacket and pushed his glasses more securely on his nose, now stone-faced as he waited for Duncan’s reaction.

Decision made, Duncan leaned forward into the other man’s personal space and spoke. “Things without all remedy should be without regard; what’s done, is done.”

Leaning back in his seat, Duncan crossed his arms across his chest and waited. Tense seconds passed, a heartbeat and another, and the man’s face relaxed with a sincere smile. “Th’ hast spoken right, ‘tis true. The wheel has come full circle, I am here.”

This time it was Duncan who relaxed when the other man leaned forward with his hand extended.

“Professor Quincy Adams Wagstaff at your service.”

Duncan leaned forward as well and shook the man’s hand, frantically trying to place where he had heard the name before. ‘Wagstaff? Professor Wagstaff?’ The answer came to him and he laughed as he settled back in his seat.

“Nice to meet you, Professor. Captain Geoffrey T. Spaulding at your service.”

“Captain. Do you live around here?”

“I travel a lot. You?”

“Here and there. There mostly.”

“Tibet?”

“Not any longer. Yak butter….”

“Plays hell with the digestion, or so I’ve been told.”

“You?”

“Tibet? No. I just returned from a safari in Africa.”

“You don’t say?”

Duncan nodded, “I do. In fact, one morning I shot an elephant in my pajamas.”

A beat and both men spoke at the same time. “How he got in my pajamas I don’t know.”

They both laughed, the darker mood now dissipating into something lighter, if not less intense.

“I take it you like the Marx Brothers?” Duncan asked him.

“Yeah, I do. My lover and I used to watch their movies together.”

Duncan cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah, mine too.” He started to say more, but the mood was broken and he reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out his own portable device to check his email. The other man had already gone back to reading his own monitor, but not before Duncan caught the intense appraisal out of the corner of his eye.

They sat in silence through much of the trip, going around the city several times as more passengers loaded and departed. Finally, it was midnight and the last passengers were preparing to get off. It had been so quiet that Duncan was startled when the man’s voice broke the silence.

“Not many people use the subways any longer.”

“No, I guess they don’t. Not since the monorails have become so widespread,” Duncan agreed.

Truth be known, he much preferred the cleaner and more convenient monorail system to the almost obsolete subway systems still operating in a few cities. In fact, he wasn’t really sure why he chose to take the subway that evening. He had every intention of taking the much quicker monorail home so he would have time to take a run before dinner. However, his last business meeting had run late and he found himself with plenty of time before the next available monorail train to his destination. Therefore, a long walk seemed like a good idea, and when he found himself in front of the subway entrance, he couldn’t seem to help himself. Nostalgia or something else? He wasn’t sure, but somehow this meeting seemed destined.

“This train goes half-way around the city before it stops for the night at the Broadstreet exit. No one else ever gets on after this point,” his companion continued.

Duncan raised a brow as the man paused, a visual cue to the word skittering across his thoughts. ‘And?’

The man slid off his jacket and started unbuttoning his vest as he continued speaking. “No one to see or hear anything that goes on here. The conductor doesn’t care. We could fight….” He stood, grabbing the rail until he got his balance, then let go and released the snap to his pants before pulling out his shirttail.

Desire was a funny thing, and suddenly Duncan found himself unashamedly aroused. He stood and took off his own coat, laying it aside as the other immortal unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped his pants, and pulled them down to his thighs just far enough to release his erection before laying out his coat across the seat and sitting down.

Taking his cue from the other man, Duncan did the same, spreading his coat out on the seat next to him, being very careful to move the katana out of the way before sitting. He reached forward and took the man’s glasses off his nose and laid them aside. “I don’t think you need these.”

“Ah, but they make me look so distinguished.”

Duncan snorted. “Distinguished, my ass.”

Duncan pressed their mouths together, stopping the man’s retort before it left his mouth. He took possession of the kiss, loving the spicy taste of the man, the brush of tongues igniting a fire in his blood that seemed to sear all the way to his toes. Every cell was alive with need as their kiss became more passionate and their flesh pressed together. Reaching for the erection pressing against him, he felt the other man’s long-fingered hand caress his own aching cock and rocked into the sensation. He began to stroke the velvety hard flesh in his hand, matching the strokes and thrusts of his partner’s hands and hips. It wasn’t long before he was spiraling toward climax and he felt his partner tense under his hand, a whispered profanity in his ear followed by a gasping laugh, and his orgasm washed over him, careening him into a timeless void where only sensation and mind numbing pleasure filled his being.

The professor was still breathing hard beside him, his head now reclined against the headrest of the seat, as his chest heaved and his limp cock lay spent and covered with semen across his groin. The man looked totally debauched and Duncan couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward and stole another kiss.

“LAST STOP” The voice rang out loudly over the speaker as the train pulled up to the station and both men had to scurry to put their clothes to right and grab their things as the train came to a halt.

~~~~~~~

Duncan jerked awake as the light pinged above his head, signaling that he was almost at his destination. Rubbing his eyes, he reached for the glass of Scotch, downed it in one swallow and set the empty glass aside.

His dream was still fresh in his mind, probably, he reasoned, because of the purpose of his journey today. That had been almost a hundred years ago. He had returned to the subway station several times after that night hoping to run into the other man again. Almost one year to the day he had turned to leave, once more disappointed by the lack of an immortal signature, when he was flagged down by a ticket agent with a badge identifying him as “John.”

~~~~~~~

“Captain Spaulding?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you Captain Spaulding? I’m sorry if I’m mistaken, sir.”

“No, you’re not mistaken,” Duncan told him, both surprised and wary as the man pulled out a box and thrust it toward him.

“Here. I was asked to deliver this to you if you showed up.”

Duncan thanked him with a smile and cursory tip, waiting until he left to open the package. Inside was a cd from Professor Wagstaff.

“Wait!” Duncan shouted to the man’s retreating form, thankful when he hesitated and turned. Duncan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “How often do you see Professor Wagstaff?”

“Who?” The man blinked owl-like at him and Duncan scowled.

“The man who gave you this package. How often do you see him?”

“I’m not sure, sir. I’ve seen him a few times over the past few months.”

“Here.” Duncan scribbled a note, pulled out a more generous tip and handed them both to the ticket agent. “If you see him, please give him this for me.”

John stuffed the money in his pocket and grinned. “Sure. Thank you, sir.”

Two nights later, one year to the day after that first subway ride, Duncan had boarded the subway car, relief flooding his system as he was assailed with strong immortal presence.

~~~~~~~

Duncan grinned with the memory of those first encounters as the illuminated message on his monitor informed him he had ten minutes before arriving at his terminal. He reached over and keyed in a request to his command center at home. A few seconds later the classical music ended and a new song floated into the stall. In his mind Duncan was transported to another place and time.

~~~~~~~  
 __

 _Every night I hope and pray  
A dream lover will come my way  
A guy to hold in my arms  
And know the magic of his charms  
‘Cause I want  
A guy  
To call  
My own  
I want a dream lover  
So I won’t have to dream alone_

 _Dream lover, where are you  
With a love, oh, so true  
And the hand that I can hold  
To feel you near as I grow old  
“Cause I want  
A guy  
To call  
My own  
I want a dream lover  
So I won’t have to dream alone  
_

Duncan shifted under the covers and pulled the other man closer, chuckling in his ear. “I thought it was a girl the singer wanted for his dream lover.”

That comment got him a look of disbelief and a soft snort. “I don’t think anyone would mistake you for a female.”

“I hope not. So, you want me to be your dream lover?”

Duncan felt the man shrug before he spoke. “Why not? We’ve been meeting off and on for over a year. You helped set up the rules after all. It’s what you still want, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Of course. So, Captain Spaulding and Professor Wagstaff?”

“Who else?”

“The subways will be closing down soon.”

“I know.”

“I can set up a private line just for us.”

He nodded. “No real names.”

“No. And no personal intrusion on one another’s life.”

“Agreed. If I want you?”

“Well, you’re my dream lover. Just call and tell me you have a dream when you want to get together and I’ll do the same.”

Duncan felt the other man shift against him and he found himself looking into intense hazel green eyes. “No, don’t think so. It sounds wrong.”

Duncan frowned. “Why?”

“I have a dream.” He looked at Duncan pointedly.

Duncan said the words over in his mind and sighed as the memory came to him. “Martin Luther King.”

“Bright boy.”

“Smart ass,” he said fondly. “I was in Georgia during the Civil Rights Movement. You?”

A subtle shake of the head preceded his answer. “England. They had their own fight for civil rights.”

“I remember. So, not ‘I have a dream’.”

“No. I have a fantasy?”

“My fantasy lover?”

Professor Wagstaff pulled away slightly to sit up, pulling the covers securely around his groin as he did. Duncan mimicked his actions, giggling when the other man began to sing.  
 _  
Every night I hope and pray  
A fantasy lover will come my way  
A guy to hold in my arms  
And know the magic of his charms  
‘Cause I want  
A guy  
To call  
My own  
I want a fantasy lover  
So I won’t have to dream alone  
_

Duncan poked him in the ribs to signal his surrender. “Okay. Not fantasy lover. I’ll remain your dream lover.”

“I thought you would see it my way.”

Silence settled over them for long moments.

“I still want you.” Duncan told him sincerely.

“I know. Then say it.”

“I want you.”

~~~~~~~

The strains of the music faded away as the door to Duncan’s stall glided open. Until he received that first cd he had no idea his lover had such a pleasant singing voice. But it no longer surprised him now when he went to his PO Box and found a cd to Captain Spaulding from one Professor Wagstaff.

Over the years the clothes changed, the hairstyles changed, the modes of transportation changed as the world changed. But one thing always remained the same. They never discussed their lives. They were forever those two strangers meeting at the back of a subway train, sharing a moment in time away from their lives–-and away from the Game.

The Game! The name left a bitter taste in his mouth now. They had thought the Gathering was here during the Great War. Jesus, but that war was brutal. Everyone’s blood was stirred up. He shouldn’t have been surprised that immortals would feel the same chilling need to search out and destroy their own kind. And wouldn’t it have been sweet justice if immortals had destroyed their own race even as man-kind destroyed the world. To lose everything and everyone you loved; to be the last one, only to find out there wasn’t a world left to save. Methos would appreciate the bitter irony, he mused.

But all things pass, and when it was over there were still immortals left in the world, although not nearly as many and just as battered and battle weary as their mortal counterparts. Now they tended to avoid one another, the call of the Quickening a reminder of the blood and carnage they all wanted to leave in the past.

The Watchers had disbanded as an organization before the war, leaving only a few to keep their records–-and their secrets–from the rest of the world. Surprisingly, or maybe not, it was those select few men and women that had kept immortals safe from the military powers when the world’s governments fell and they all came together under global rule.

Led by Joshua Dawson, they had infiltrated the new regime, and working with the remaining immortals, set up a covert network of support for all involved. Duncan was not sure how many Watchers still existed. Joshua was long dead, survived by his great-grandson, Joseph.

He felt a heaviness in his chest, Joseph’s name still invoking thoughts of an old grizzled blues player from years long past. Joe would have been proud of his descendants and the legacy they carried on. Duncan need only to call and his records were mysteriously purged, a new persona set up with swift efficiency and matched up in the system with his fingerprints. Conversely, when a new immortal was identified, the Watchers went through the immortal network until a teacher could be found.

With a strong exhalation of breath, Duncan pushed those thoughts aside as he took long purposeful strides down the well-lighted corridor, ignoring the disapproving glares of the travel agents as he by-passed the transfer stations. There were still parts of the world with wide open spaces and well maintained highways. And although it was discouraged, there were still automobiles for private use if one had the resources. And Douglas MacGregor had plenty of resources.

It wasn’t long before he had a set of keys in his hand and was being shown to a small two-seater car. The outside was brushed silver, the inside had lush black leather seats. State of the art dash with a built in command center he would synchronize with his system at home. Now run on expensive synthetic fuel, gasoline-driven cars were long obsolete. Even though the new fuels were cleaner and environmentally safer, they were difficult to develop and use and still looked down on by the United Nations Council. In order to discourage automobile use, they had added a twenty percent surcharge to every gallon sold, making it unaffordable to all except the wealthy.

Making sure he had a full tank, he shifted himself into the most comfortable position possible and started the engine. Pulling out onto the empty street, he thought wistfully of his Thunderbird.

Without traffic to slow his pace, he found himself out of the city within a short time. He loved this part of the world during the spring. The countryside was lush and green this time of year. It was also almost eerily quiet as most people now lived in the cities, the rural areas no longer amenable to their way of life.

Not that it mattered for the most part. People were now so ensconced in their own little world of computer technology, they barely had time to interact with other human beings, much less nature. The very things that were supposed to give them more freedom had imprisoned them in a vacuum. It made him long for the old days: living with his clan in Scotland when he was mortal, riding with the Texas Rangers, going to a Blues Bar and being with friends.

He loved driving, the quiet time a meditation, calming both his mind and spirit. Before long, he was no longer seeing the country side, his thoughts traveling back through another place in time.

~~~~~~~

They were in a large room, the dark, polished hardwood floors covered by an oriental rug, it’s hues of red and gold a complement to the deep rich reds of the heavy draperies. The sturdy mahogany furniture had been pushed away from the center of the room toward the wall and away from the flames in the fireplace.

Other than the light from the fire, candles were the only source of light, spread out across the room with silver candelabras. Their wicks flickered as the men moved around the room casting shadows that leapt in harmony with their throaty laughter and grunts of exertion.

Duncan pushed away from his opponent and darted to the right, distancing himself as he planned his next offensive move. They were both naked, their bodies slick with sweat, chests heaving as they circled one another warily. The other man lunged at him, then kicked out as Duncan grabbed his forearms and attempted to pull him down to the floor.

His opponent chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, as he wagged his finger in Duncan’s direction. “Not good enough.”

Duncan scowled and lunged low, managing to take his partner’s legs out from under him, dumping him on his ass. “I don’t know. Seems good enough to me,” he grunted as he held the man down with this greater weight.

Duncan didn’t see the open-palmed strike until it connected with his chin, jerking his head backward with a powerful blow. Then he was suddenly on his back with one hundred and eighty pounds of hard muscle lying across his chest.

“Give?”

“Don’t think so.” Duncan answered, using the brief interlude to catch his breath.

The air was charged with tension and excitement. Duncan took slow deep breaths, his senses imprinting the moment on his memory: the crackle and pop of wood burning in the fireplace, the pleasant, woodsy odor from the burning fir as it mingled with the sweat and musk from the two male bodies pressed closely together.

Muscles bunching in his powerful body, Duncan attempted to throw the other man off, only to be pressed more firmly against his opponent’s strong chest. Another attempt to throw him off and his hands were taken in a firm grasp, their fingers intertwining as the other man leaned forward until their lips almost touched.

“As I said, not good enough.”

Then all thought went out of his head as his lover’s mouth descended on his, his kiss as hungry and brutal as the wrestling match had been earlier. Duncan’s body was ablaze with longing for this man, the unquenchable hunger to take or be taken a primitive driving force as he was brusquely rolled over onto his abdomen, his legs were quickly kneed apart and their sweat slicked bodies melded together.

~~~~~~~~~~

Duncan slowed down as he entered the city. The traffic was still sparse here, but there was pedestrian traffic and the speed limits were strictly enforced. He stopped at a light, thankfully few and far between now, and adjusted himself in his pants. Trying to get his mind on less lustful thoughts, he surveyed the area.

A few people were milling about although most of the shops were now closed. Everyone shopped online. There were still a few restaurants scattered about although many were not open to the public, instead sending their food to their customers through the high-speed transport terminals that went to all private homes and apartments.

The light changed and he drove forward reflecting on the people he had seen as he sat at the intersection. As the custom, they were dressed in different periods of clothing. While fashion was still somewhat regulated by fads, and he thought of Amanda and her new dark green hair color, people were also encouraged to wear whatever suited them as any style, fabric and size was instantly available with a touch of a computer screen. It was not unusual to see someone dressed in styles from centuries past as well as their own unique mixture of several different cultures or times in history.

He had told Amanda the truth. He enjoyed the fabrics of the late twentieth and twenty first centuries, finding the fine linen slacks comfortable and easy to care for. He still liked the durability and comfort of his jeans and kept them in stock at all times. He wasn’t surprised that his dream lover also seemed to feel most comfortable when he could relax in a pair of jeans and soft sweater.

He had programmed his destination coordinates into the car’s built-in navigational system before leaving. Listening carefully to the voiced instructions, he turned left and pulled up to a large apartment complex to park. Getting out of the car, he took a moment to take a few deep breaths and center himself. For this time was different. In over a hundred years this was the first time that his lover’s request gave him pause.

“I want you.” The words reverberated in his mind and he shivered in spite of himself. A step forward and another, and he was standing, his hand wrapped white knuckled around his suitcase handle, in front of a large oak door. There was no need to knock. He knew his presence had been felt long before he reached the door.

Heart hammering in his chest, he tensed as the door opened and his dream lover stepped aside to let him in.

He pushed his suitcase aside and turned to face the other man as soon as the door was closed. God, he looked wonderful. Still young and strong like Duncan, himself, his hair had now grown out to his collar, the fringe falling across his forehead in the style Duncan remembered when they had first met centuries before. Clear green hazel eyes searched his face as he sensed Duncan’s apprehension.

“Methos, are you sure?” The words were out of Duncan’s mouth before he could stop them, before he could bite his tongue or take them back. He was relieved when his answer was a genuine smile.

“I’m sure, Duncan MacLeod. Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song "Dream Lover" was sang by Bobby Darin. Alone was a song from the Marx Brothers movie "A Night At The Opera" which was sung by Kitty Carlisle and Allan Jones.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful and always patient beta, Tray (elistaire), for her help and support. All mistakes are my own.


End file.
